My first child was born on September 3, 2012, a Monday, but not just any Monday: Labor Day, which anyone can tell you is infinitely better than your average Monday, as well as an appropriate day to give birth. My husband Andy and I spent that weekend trying to distract ourselves from the fact that we had reached my due date and could still have up to two weeks of waiting before we met the baby. On Saturday, we went out for a fancy dinner, took a walk downtown, and rented a movie. On Sunday, we went to church, but sat in the back and left early because I was getting so uncomfortable. I had no desire to go anywhere or see anyone for the rest of that day. So we just stayed in, worked on a puzzle, and had french toast with peaches for dinner.
I know now that that sudden, instinctual need to hide myself away from (almost) all people and activities was my body’s way of preparing me for what it knew was coming. That night, I woke up at 3 a.m. feeling crampy. I tried to ignore it, but then I noticed that the pain was coming in waves. At 3:30, I woke Andy up and said, “I think something is happening.” We hung out in bed for a while, then ventured outside for a moonlit walk and started timing my pains, which were 5-10 minutes apart, but seemed to spread out further as we walked. We spent the rest of the dark, early morning hours trying to distract from the pain by working on the puzzle, then going for another walk. The second walk was longer, but didn’t seem to make a difference in the timing of the contractions, which were now a steady 3-5 minutes apart. When we got back I took a shower, then we called our midwife and parents. The midwife said to call and head to the hospital when the contractions were 3-5 minutes apart for several hours. My parents headed down, and Andy and I spent the next few hours packing up and timing contractions. Throughout this time I kept thinking, “If I have an average length labor, I should have this baby by midnight.” Since I was due just two days earlier, we had always joked about having the baby on Labor Day, and now it looked like that was actually going to happen! At 6 a.m. I remember thinking, “I’ve already been in labor 3 hours” and at 9, “I’ve already been in labor 6 hours.” As ridiculous as it sounds, I was amazed by how fast it seemed to be going by. I felt like I barely had time to even think about the fact that I was in labor. I would wander around the house breathing through the pain and yelling “Okay!” every time a contraction started so Andy could write the time on a piece of paper in between gathering up our stuff. I spent a good portion of that time sitting on the edge of our bed with a pillow in my arms, which seemed to be the most comfortable I could get. It didn’t even cross my mind to try most of the positions they taught us in birthing class. My body just knew what it wanted to do.
Around 11 a.m., Andy and I were sitting back at the dining room table trying to work on the puzzle again, when I had three contractions in a row that were 2 minutes apart. Andy and I both looked at each other and said, “It’s time to go to the hospital.” My parents pulled up as we were walking out to the car and my mom asked if we were going for a walk. I just said, “We’re going to the hospital.” She jumped in the car with us and called the midwife as Andy drove.
When we got to the hospital, I found out that I was 4cm dilated, 100% effaced, and that my water would likely break any minute. I was so lucky to have an amazing nurse named Jennifer who was super sweet, encouraging, and very supportive of our birth plan, which I myself was barely even aware of at this point. I spent the next several hours in Labor and Delivery rotating between the birth ball, to the bathroom, to the bed. All the while, my mom was behind me rubbing my back and Andy was in front of me reminding me to breathe and relax. Every time a contraction came, I would grab on to Andy and sway and moan and try to relax and breathe. Sometimes I would squeeze Andy too hard because of the pain, but never once did I ever feel even a little annoyed by him. He was an amazing support all the way through.
The next time they checked me, I was 7 cm and that’s when things began to get intense. The contractions were one on top of the other, and I began throwing up some, which, thanks to my birthing class (we chose the Bradley Method), I knew meant that I was at least approaching transition and that the end was in sight. It was also at that point that I started losing my modesty, which surprised me in hindsight because I am normally an extremely modest person, but the hospital gown was getting in the way, so I took it off and went through the entire rest of the birth in nothing but the tank top I had on underneath and couldn’t have cared less! I was way more focused on managing the pain and birthing this baby. Throughout my whole time at the hospital, I kept thinking, “Why did I want to have a natural birth again? Why did we take the class? What was I thinking?” but for some reason I felt like it was too late to turn back now, so I just kept breathing and relaxing. I think the main thing that got me through the worst parts, though, was all the encouragement I received. Both my mom and Andy know me well enough to know that I needed verbal affirmation more than anything else and they never ceased to comment on how well I was doing, which made me feel like I was tough enough to keep going. It also helped that the sweet nurse kept popping in and cheering me on as well.
After my second measurement, they called the midwife and when she got there she measured me at 9 cm. At that point, my “about to break any minute” water still had not broken, which the midwife said had probably helped me manage the pain up until then, but would speed things up now if she broke it. So I said sure, and it wasn’t long after it broke that I started feeling the urge to push. Andy told me later that it was just he and my mom with me when I started to feel the need to push and that he was super scared but just thought, “Well, you have to push then.” The midwife came in soon though and we started pushing. I say we because it really felt like it took the work of all five of us, Andy on one side, my mom on the other, and the midwife and nurse in front of me, all helping me in their own way. Pushing was interesting because, at least for me, it was very much something I had to learn to do. It took me a while to get the timing right with my contractions, but once I got the hang of it things went really fast and my midwife just kept saying “you’re doing so good, Alissa, keep going.” I was vaguely aware of her telling me that the baby’s heart rate had dropped and calling the doctor to come use the vacuum, but I just kept pushing and then Andy said that the baby had hair and a few seconds later I felt him slither out and he was on my chest. As he was being handed to me, I heard my mom say, “It’s a boy!” so I just said “Hello Oliver!” It was an amazing feeling and an amazing experience and I couldn’t have asked for a better birth. Oliver was born at 4:49 p.m. so I was in labor for 13 hours total and pushed for just about half an hour of that. Later, my midwife told me that with my first baby and him being so big (9 lbs. 5 oz.), I shouldn’t have been able to push him out in time for them to not have to use the vacuum. I hadn’t had an ultrasound since halfway through the pregnancy, so I had no idea he would be so big, which is lucky for me because I probably would have had way more anxiety had I known. It’s also lucky that he decided to come when he did because I had an ultrasound scheduled for the next day otherwise, which may have revealed his size, or even prompted an induction.
Giving birth to Oliver was definitely one of the proudest moments of my life. Throughout my pregnancy, I had this secret fear that my body would somehow not be up to the task of delivering a child, much less one so large with hardly any medical interventions. I was so amazed to see what my body was capable of, that one of the first things I remember thinking and saying after Oliver was born was, “I did it!” Giving birth the way that I did was hands down the most empowering event of my life thus far, because I was able to really witness my body going through the entire birth process the way that it was made to. I have never felt more capable of handling anything than I did in the hours following Oliver’s birth.
